Addict
by Firestar9mm
Summary: Some things are more potent than others.


**Author's Introduction:**

This is happening all out of order. I was working last night on my new Danny Phantom fic, _Eye of the Beholder_, but it's a bit of a slow starter. And then Friday at work, I got a sort of idea, and did my favorite thing, which was stay up way too late writing. Sort of a little snack for the intermission, I guess. (smiles.) Enjoy!

I don't own much, and that includes any and all rights to my beloved Danny, any Finger Eleven song lyrics, movie references, or pop culture elements contained within this story.

* * *

_**Addict**_

_A Danny Phantom fanfiction

* * *

_

_The wonder of the world is gone, I know for sure  
__All the wonder that I want, I found in her  
__As the hole becomes a part I strike to burn and no flame returns  
__Every intuition fails to find its way  
__One more table turned around, I'm back again  
__Finding I'm a lost and found when she's not around  
__When she's not around I feel it coming down  
__Give me what I could never ask for  
__Connect me and you could be my chemical  
__Give me the drug you know I'm after  
__Connect me and you could be the chemical_

**(_Slow Chemical_, Finger Eleven)

* * *

**

The students of Casper High's sixth-period health class shuddered with dread at the sight of the television set resting silently on its wheeled cart at the front of the room.

"It looks innocent enough," Tucker Foley said.

"So did the TV in _Poltergeist_," Danny Fenton hissed through clenched teeth.

Sam Manson chuckled. "It's baaaaaaack."

"Stop," Tucker groaned, pulling his hat down over his ears. "I can't stand it any more. Nothing could have been worse than last week's video."

"Awww, what's wrong, Tuck? Don't you _like_ watching a natural childbirth?" Danny rolled his eyes.

"That was _not_ a natural childbirth!" Sam declared, smacking her hand down on her desk. "That woman was smiling from ear to ear the whole time! She was obviously numb from the neck down. What's so natural about _that_?"

The boys groaned. "_Eww_."

The argument was interrupted by the bell ringing and Lancer taking his place at the head of the class.

"Good afternoon, class. I think you'll really enjoy today's video."

Everyone groaned.

Lancer's smile dropped off his face and crashed to the floor. "_You: The Owner's Manual_! You children have no respect for quality after-school specials and public service announcements."

"That's not true, Mr. Lancer. I know the words to every _Schoolhouse Rock_ ever recorded!" Tucker said.

"AAAAaaack!" Danny and Sam cried, covering their ears in anticipation of song.

Luckily, Lancer flipped the switch on the television set. "Not today, Mr. Foley. Today we are going to learn about the dangers of substance abuse from a timeless after-school special."

" 'Timeless' means that all the men wear their pants too high and all the women have Farrah hair, doesn't it?"

"It's _Gidget_ hair," Sam giggled.

"_Gray's Anatomy_!" Lancer pounded a fist on the TV, making the snow shudder. "Tucker Foley, don't sing! Daniel Fenton, stop making wisecracks! Samantha Manson, stop encouraging him!" Red-faced, Lancer shoved a tape into the VCR. "The hairstyles in this video are completely contemporary!" Calming down, he pressed PLAY.

Sam turned to Danny. "Quick, Danny. Kill me."

"No!" Danny hissed. "If I kill you, then you can't kill me, and I am _not _trusting my death to Tucker."

"Hey!" Tucker said, and then Lancer dimmed the lights.

* * *

Kwan had spent the entirety of the video drawing mustaches and glasses on the actors with a laser pointer, which Lancer had been all too happy to confiscate. After class was dismissed, he tossed it into the drawer with all his other confiscated goods, which included the classic class-clown props of a yo-yo, a slingshot, and a water pistol that had actually belonged to Sam Manson. Looking up from the drawer, he was mildly surprised to see Danny Fenton shuffling his feet in front of the desk. "How can I help you, Mr. Fenton?" 

Danny's focus was still on the drawer. "Tell me the truth. You take some of that stuff to PTA night, don't you?"

Lancer frowned. "Is that your question, Mr. Fenton?"

Danny snapped back to attention. "Ah—no. Actually, I had a question about today's lesson."

"Addiction, chemical dependency?" Lancer seemed to perk up at the thought of an actual academic question. "All right, what don't you get?"

Danny looked shy. "Um—is it really possible to become addicted to something even if you've only done it once or twice?"

Lancer's eyebrows would have disappeared into his hair—if he had had any. "Well, that depends on the person using the substance, as well as the potency of the substance itself, but before we can answer that question, I want to be sure you understand that abuse and addiction are two very different things."

"Abuse?" Danny asked.

"Yes. Abuse of a substance is not the same thing as being addicted to it. Have you heard the term 'functioning alcoholic'?" Danny nodded. "Well, many addicts are quite functional regardless of the substance they abuse. They don't always take the substance every day and don't experience symptoms of withdrawal when they go without."

"Wait," Danny said. "If you don't need it all the time and you don't go through withdrawal, how do you know if you're addicted to something?"

"Why do you think people do drugs, Danny?" Lancer asked, in full-on teacher mode.

Danny's brow creased in thought beneath his dark bangs. "Because it makes them feel good?"

"And why is that?"

"Because…it does."

Stifling a laugh, Lancer turned in his chair towards the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk and wrote "endorphins". "All addictive drugs produce an initial pleasurable effect. Many actually mimic chemicals tha actually reside in the human brain, such as endorphins. Do you run, Danny?"

"Do I ever," the boy chuckled. "I have to, these days."

Lancer wasn't sure what he meant, but continued. "Then you'll know that exercise stimulates endorphins in the brain. That's why you feel so accomplished when you run five miles or lift weights, because of the chemical rush."

"Sort of like a natural high?" Danny asked.

"That's right. Drugs artificially stimulate the pleasure centers of the brain, producing a pleasant reaction. Thus, many people continue use of the substance. If the substance is taken away, feelings of panic occur, and the brain remembers this panicked feeling as something to avoid. This has been labeled 'withdrawal'."

"But you said addicts don't experience withdrawal. How do you know if you're addicted?" Danny pressed.

"There are certain earmarks of addiction," Lancer explained. "The addict can't control their use of the substance—they are basically helpless in its clutches. Also, they spend a lot of time thinking about the substance."

"Like how good they felt, and when they could do it again?"

Lancer nodded. "Like that, yes."

"But they can't help it, right? It's not really all their fault, is it?" Danny asked.

Alarm bells were beginning to sound in Lancer's bald head. "Exactly what kind of situation are we talking about, Daniel?" he asked smoothly.

Danny thought hard for a second, trying to articulate his thoughts. "All right, we're talking strictly hypothetically, okay?" he began. When Lancer nodded, Danny continued. "Okay. So there's this guy. He's pretty much average. Sort of just a regular guy."

"Okay. Enter the substance?" Lancer asked.

"Yeah. I mean, he doesn't do this kind of thing all the time. In fact, he brushes it off when he does do it. Makes it seem like it's no big deal."

Lancer nodded. "Sidestepping, lying about the behavior. That's a characteristic of teen addiction especially."

Danny looked troubled. "But—hypothetically—he's only done it, like, twice. He knows he likes it, but he's a little…scared. And every time he does it he tells himself it's no big deal, that it's never going to happen again."

"Sometimes once or twice is all it takes, Danny," Lancer admitted. "How potent—hypothetically, of course—is the substance?"

Danny's eyes slid to half-mast in an expression of bliss. "Oh, it's awesome. Mind-blowing. He's never experienced anything like it—" Suddenly realizing what he was saying and who he was saying it to, he caught himself. "Hypothetically, I mean."

"I see." Lancer steepled his fingers. "Judging by what you've told me, I'm afraid this kind of behavior can lead to addiction."

"But he can't help it," Danny protested, forgetting himself again. "I mean—hypothetically—it just takes him over when it happens. He can't fight it—he doesn't even _want _to. He's…weak."

Lancer looked at his student carefully. "Addicts aren't 'weak', Danny. Dependency is a very real problem and it does respond to treatment."

Realizing the corner he'd backed himself into, Danny quickly backpedaled. "We're talking hypothetically here, remember? None of this is real."

Lancer was unconvinced, but decided against pushing his favorite troublemaker any further. He tried the last shot in his locker. "You know, Danny, if our hypothetical friend ever needed to—talk, there are plenty of people willing to listen. I'm sure he's got some friends who love him, no matter how…geeky…or…freakishly dressed…they may be, and I'm sure he's got a family who'd want to do anything to help him. Possibly even a teacher who's only tough on the kids who might actually grow up to be someone worthwhile someday."

A little smile touched Danny's lips. "I'm sure if he were real, he'd keep that in mind."

Lancer sighed. "On a less precious note, there's always hope for addicts. Breakthroughs are being made with medications to treat addictions even as difficult as nicotine."

Danny laughed. "This isn't like that. They haven't made a medicine for this yet, and I doubt they ever will." Grinning, he turned to leave. "Thanks, Mr. Lancer. You've been a big help."

"Anytime, Mr. Fenton," Lancer said to the boy's retreating footsteps. "I'm glad we had this little talk."

As soon as he was sure Danny was gone, Lancer opened the drawer again. Taking out the water pistol, he took careful aim at the yearbook picture of the class he'd just been teaching.

"Muwahaha! Got ya, Nathan! And quit grinning, Foley—you're next!"

* * *

"Why were you in there so long?" Tucker asked. "Did you get in trouble?" 

"Nah, I just had a few questions about the lesson," Danny said. "Although I probably shouldn't have asked. He probably thinks I have a coke habit now."

Sam laughed. "The only coke habit you have is cherry Coke," she said, lighting a Parliament. "Mmm…been waiting for that all day."

"Isn't it sort of cliché that you smoke?" Tucker asked, poking Sam in the ribs.

"About as much of a cliché as your PDA and glasses," Sam chuckled smoothly, taking another drag.

"Point taken," Tucker laughed.

Danny smiled at his friends. Tucker and Sam were the only two people knew who could rip on each other all day and not get angry.

"Kiss me, Sam," he said suddenly, reaching for her.

Sam laughed and handed her cigarette to Danny, who took a drag and gave it back. "Thanks."

"Why do you call it that?" Tucker said, shuddering. "You freak me out with that!"

"Her lipstick gets on the filter before I take a drag," Danny said. "Get it? A kiss."

"Maybe you _are _on coke," Tucker laughed, shaking his head. "Even if it is cherry."

"Speaking of, you guys want to go to the Nasty Burger?" Danny said. "I could use a soda."

"Sure. You can kiss Sam's straw," Tucker laughed.

Sam pulled Tucker's hat down over his eyes. Danny took her cigarette and closed his eyes happily as he inhaled again.

* * *

Closing the door, Danny hoped the smell of smoke hadn't clung to his hair or clothes. His parents might not notice, but Jazz had a nose for anything she could tattle on him for. 

Unfortunately, Maddie Fenton was waiting for him at the kitchen table. Uh oh.

"Hi, Mom," he said.

"Danny, we have to talk."

There was no way she could smell the smoke, Danny told himself. He'd made sure of it. "Sure, Mom. What's up?"

"I got a phone call today from Mr. Lancer."

Danny frowned. "Lancer? What did he want?"

"He told me you had a lot of questions for him today about substance abuse." Maddie's eyes went soft. "Something you want to tell me, honey?"

Danny tensed. "No—I mean, Mom, it's not what you think. It's not what he thinks, either. I swear."

Maddie chewed on her lower lip. "Danny…you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Danny smiled. "Of course I do. And believe me, nothing's wrong. I promise."

Maddie smiled finally, and a glint sparked in her eyes. "Then you won't mind going through a couple of…tests. Jack!"

Jack Fenton bounded into the kitchen like a kid on Christmas. "I've been waiting for an excuse to use the Fenton Polygraph!"

Danny gulped. "Uh…sure, if it'll help."

Maddie sat him down in a kitchen chair. "I'm glad you're being so cooperative, honey. It'll make the tox screen easier."

Danny's eyes went wide. "Tox screen?"

* * *

Hours later, Danny was locked in his room, rubbing his arm. The bend of his elbow was still sore from where his parents had taken a blood sample. And the urine test had been far too embarrassing. 

Granted, the whole experience had sucked, but he assured himself it had been worth it to keep them from finding out the truth. He wasn't ready for anyone to know yet. He was having trouble even admitting it to himself.

But the admission had only made things worse. All through health class, he'd felt his thoughts wandering back to his addiction. Leaving school and getting outside had helped, but upon returning home he'd been subjected to ridiculous humiliation and parental interrogation—which was normal in his house, but hadn't helped keep his thoughts off his problem. As soon as his parents had let him go and raced down to the lab to test their "results", he'd been dying for a…fix.

And damn it, he was going to get one.

Transforming into his ghost self always felt liberating, like he was shedding a heavy skin. Phasing through the wall, he stretched his arms out for a second to enjoy the feel of the night sky around him, then headed for Sam's.

He could have easily phased through the wall, but he knocked on her window to be polite. Violet eyes peeked from behind the dark curtains for a second, and then they were pushed aside and she opened the window with a smile.

"I had a feeling my room might be haunted. Come on in."

Danny touched down on Sam's plush carpeting and transformed back to human form. "Thanks. Is this a bad time?"

"Nope. I was just getting ready for bed." Sam's skirt and tank top were thrown on the bed; she was wearing a black nightgown that Danny was having trouble keeping his eyes off of. Sam noticed and laughed. "Sorry about my state of undress. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have dressed up."

Danny smiled. "It's fine. I should have called first. Sorry."

"So did you just miss the melodious sound of my voice, or are you in trouble?"

Danny laughed and flopped back on Sam's bed. "Not anymore, or not yet—I'm not sure."

Sam jumped on the big bed beside him. "What happened?"

"Remember I stayed after to ask Lancer something about the lesson? He must have gotten the wrong idea. He called my parents and then _they _got the wrong idea."

Sam's violet eyes were wide. "Did they ground you?"

"No, but they did take samples." He showed her his arm.

Sam was silent for a minute, and then her head dropped to the mattress. It did nothing to muffle her howls of laughter.

Danny picked up a black furry pillow and hit her with it. "Shut up, Sam!"

Sam's laughter eventually died down to giggles. Wiping her eyes, a thought struck her. "Why would Lancer get the wrong idea? What exactly did you ask him?"

Danny sighed, sitting up. "I asked him if people could be addicted to something, even if they've only done it one or two times."

Sam's face slid into worry; she was getting the exact same wrong idea. "Danny? What are you talking about?"

Danny looked at his best friend, his own eyes going soft. "I want a kiss, Sam. I _need _a kiss, Sam."

Sam smiled. She slid off the bed and took her purse off the desk chair, pawing through it for her cigarettes. "Is that all you wanted? Here, Danny."

Danny moved across the room and took the purse gently out of Sam's hand. "Not that kind of kiss, Sam," he said, just above a whisper, tipping her chin up with one hand.

Sam's eyes were wide with surprise, but they quickly slid to half-mast as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, coaxing her mouth open. She relaxed against him,

"I can't help it," he said when they parted. "It only happened once, maybe twice, but now I don't want to stop."

Sam looked dizzy. "I see what you mean," she said as she pulled him close again.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

_Poltergeist_ scared the hell out of me when I was a kid. It took me till I was twenty-two to put a television set in my room.

_Schoolhouse Rock _cracks me up, as long as Tucker's not singing. Also, Danny and Sam yell "AAAAaaack!" but if I admit that's a reference to _Beavis and Butthead_, I might accidentally be carbon-dating myself.

There's no evidence that Sam smokes on the show, but there's a sort of cold war going on at my office—everyone's trying to quit, and I've been informed by my co-workers that once my friend quits, they aren't stopping until they get me to quit, too. I have a feeling I'm going to be the last woman standing on this one, so I wanted to give myself some fictional support. Thanks Sam! (smiles.)

This entire story is sort of an apology to Lancer. I have a feeling he's really smart and could be a good teacher, but everyone loves to torture him—we can't help ourselves! His two literary references in the story are _Gray's Anatomy_ (I have a leather-bound copy on my bookshelf next to my copy of _The Illustrated Guide to Forensics_; great conversation starters/conversation stoppers) and _You: The Owner's Manual_, which one of my co-workers has read and said is very interesting from a health perspective. Also, all the information Lancer gives Danny I got from various websites; you really can Google anything!

And yes, this is secretly a romantic story. Sorry! I couldn't help myself! (smiles.)

Okay, back to the boards. Hopefully I can work on the new one now that this is out of my system. Thanks for reading!


End file.
